Dreams of destruction
by blekmedelninjan
Summary: Though a full 17 years has passed since Aizen's defeat, his shadow still looms over the Gotei 13. And as a new order is established, the seireitei faces a new, insidious threat. IchiRuki, possibly other pairings. Rated T for safety.
1. Captaincy

All right, a new story. This will be a fighty, destroy-the-soul-society fic, and I'll try to fit in some pairings as well. Right now, I'm not sure where it is going, but oh, well...

Disclaimer: I ownzor not the m4ng4/4n1m3 B1each, Tite Kubo does.

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_Somewhere in the soul society, the dreamer weaves his weave. With great skill, he twists and turns, a genius at work. They all dance to his tune; he plays them all for fools. He means to show them all that danger, sorrow, despair, chaos… all these things are nowhere near as far away as they think. Though well nigh two decades has passed, the legacy of the great deceiver remains, in his shape and form. He does what his predecessor never did, he rules where he could not. But the dreamer, too, is played the fool, for little does he realize just how much devastation his machinations shall bring upon his kind. For now, he lays still and… dreams._

A full seventeen years had passed since the apocalyptic events of the final battle against Aizen. It was a legendary tale, now, embroidered and added to by the rank-and-file soldiers of the new generation who would tell it, but there were several solid facts no-one got away from. The battle had consumed a majority of all the arrancar Aizen had created, though not all had died- some fled; others had remained in Las Noches. In the end, the arrancar had all learned the hard way what comes of serving a man so consumed by his own ambition as Aizen, as they all had been left behind whilst he, Gin and Tosen opened the gate to the kings palace.

It had turned out that the king's key could be manufactured in more than one way, and Aizen already had forged it when the battle began- how, no one was sure, but Urahara later theorized that he had been gathering human souls for decades before his treachery, and finally had harvested them in the last week before the final battle.

Yes, it had been bloody and brutal, with great losses for both sides. The captains Komamura and Hitsugaya had laid down their lives that day, Komamura dying in an attempt to stop Aizen, and Hitsugaya being rendered comatose to this very day by Halibel.

The army of numeros, including their commander Barragan, had been destroyed that day.

Yamamoto Shigekuni-Genryuusai had been defeated for the first time in his life, left for dead by Aizen.

For all his efforts, however, Aizen would not have succeeded in going as far as he did were it not for the intervention of the vindictive vizards. They had struck, slaying scores of shinigami, and had aided in the massacre of the royal guard that protected the king.

Somewhere at that point, though, Aizen had failed and died, a few feet short of his goal. Few knew how, or what had happened, only that the substitute shinigami (or as he was known these days, Kurosaki-taicho) had something to do with it.

The signs of devastation were evident even almost two decades later, the gotei juusantai still recovering. The arrancar, as well as the vizards seemed to have vanished off the face of existence, barely ever showing themselves.

It was in this reality that the Kyuubantai taicho, Abarai Renji, walked towards the fifth division. Though he had worn a captain's robes for almost a decade, he still felt uncomfortable in them, as if he was not fit to wear them- in more than one sense. What else, wherever he went he would be stared at with awe and reverence, and in some cases pure hero worship. He was not the only one suffering from this problem- anyone who could boast 'I was there that day' was immediately put on a pedestal of admiration. Captains and vice-captains had always been admired, but those who had fought in the war were admired beyond sensible limits. As he passed one of the streets, he saw fifth seat Hanataro sweeping the street- or rather, he was trying to, but half a dozen fresh-out-of-the-academy girls were swarming around him, swooning and flirting shamelessly. Renji smiled to himself. Hanataro had it easier and harder at the same time. Easier because fifth seats needed do less work than the other 'veterans' who were now mostly captains or vice-captains, harder because fifth seats (especially timid ones) were more accessible than captains. A captain was oft so well respected that rank and file soldiers would hesitate to address them, but fifth seats? Not so much. Not that having girls throw themselves at you could be a disadvantage, Renji figured.

He shrugged, and walked on towards the fifth division.

Finally there, he had to take a detour just to get to Icigo's office. All the other captains had their offices located I roughly the same place- all divisions had the same architecture, if you could find your way in one division you could find your way in the lot of them- but trust Captain Loose Cannon to put his office at the most inconvenient place possible. Hell, even Kenpachi was easy to find.

Finally, he came upon a small room, where Momo sat, doing paper work.

"Yo." He said, greeting her unceremoniously. "Is Ichigo in?"

Momo gave a yelp, jumping a little at the sound of his voice. Apparently, she had been so absorbed by her work, she hadn't noticed him.

"A-abarai-taicho. I didn't notice you, you startled me."

"That's Renji to you" he shot back. "It's bad enough that everyone below fifth seat can't look at me without their jaws dropping, do you have to be formal too?"

"Sorry." She said. "But you are a captain. Shouldn't I address you properly?"

"Momo, the next time you call me 'Abarai-taicho', I won't answer. Now, is Ichigo in?"

"Yes, but he is doing paperwork-"

"He never does paperwork. He's worse than Kyoraku-taicho." Renji said, kicking open the door to Kurosaki Ichigo, Gobantai taicho's office.

Ignoring Momo's protests, he walked in.

"What do you want, Renji?" Ichigo said, sounding slightly annoyed. He had been napping, since doing no work at all can be really exhausting.

"You got mail." Renji said, producing a letter from his shihakusho.

"Yeah? If they need a captain to deliver it personally, it must be important."

"Naah. Truth be told, I was getting bored beating my subordinates around in the sparring ring, and paperwork sucks, so I decided to take a walk. And then, Ukitake-taicho asked me to give you this. It's a news bulletin, and a few personal messages. Want me to read it to you?"

"Would you?" Ichigo said, pointing at his eyes, covered by a strip of white cloth.

"I wonder" Renji said. "Do you ever regret gouging your own eyes out? Being blind can't be much fun."

"True." Ichigo returned. "But it's not all bad. Out of necessity, my reiatsu sensing skills have become extremely sharp. I'll never be able to enjoy a piece of art, though." He said the last part with a little sadness.

"Well," Renji said, feeling it best not to dwell on that issue "the news is more or less the same as always- new recruits, a few arrancar sightings that can't be confirmed, et cetera, so on and so forth. There is one thing, though. There is a captains meeting in two hours, presence mandatory."

"I imagine the last part about presence is directed at Rangiku. Her attendance is horrible." Ichigo said with a snicker. "What else?"

"A personal note from Ukitake. Since you are infamous for your horrible administrative skills, he wants to send a few archivist specialists to help organize the horrible mess that is your division."

"Hey!" Ichigo growled. "I'm not _that_ bad."

"Yeah, you are. And what's worse, because you won't do your workload as you should, Momo strains herself."

Looking a little guilty, Ichigo muttered something about being blind and not being able to do paperwork properly.

"Don't even try to blame your blindness" Renji scolded. "Tosen may have been a traitor, but he ran his division smoothly, and he was as blind as a mole."

Before the conversation could steer towards becoming an argument, a black globe on Ichigo's desk began to glow, and a loud voice declared:

"_Six Adjuchas sighted in the rukongai, district eight, positions 39-4, 38-4, 37-4. I repeat…"_ the voice proceeded to repeat several times over the same message.

"We are the closest." Ichigo said, grinning. "Wanna go kill some hollows?"

"We-ell, I_ should_ be getting back to ninth to whip the recruits in shape and do mounds of boring paperwork..." Renji said, tapping his chin. "Besides, there are plenty of tings you could do rather than fight. It's that gung-ho attitude of yours that has your division in trouble, y'know."

"Oh, quit pretending. Swinging a sword feels way better than sitting on your ass."

"Yeah, who am I kidding?" Renji said, his face splitting into a big grin. "That was actually hard to say with a straight face."

The two of them took off, flashing towards their destination. They were in for a surprise, though- the report had said six, when there had to be over twenty. Not that either of them were discouraged, they were captains facing mere hollows after all. Problem was, the lot of them were fast, and they didn't know when to quit. Ichigo had already donned his hollow mask. In the end, after a half an hour or so, the two of them were slightly bloodied. As Renji brought Zabimaru down on the last one, they walked towards a rock, and sat down, panting. Ichigo took off his mask, leaving it to rest higher up on his head.

"Why do you like to use that mask so much?" Renji asked. "It's not like you need it to slice through a few menos."

"True. But I think I told you why just the other week?"

"The hell you did. You are always so secretive about them hollow powers, anyway. You hardly tell anyone about 'em."

"I did _too_ tell you the other week."

"No."

"Whatever. Since you appear to have gone senile, I'll tell you again: I'm blind, remember?"

"Duh."

"When I use the mask… I can _see_. A hollows distorted view, but I can see. That is why I have worked so hard on mastering my vizards skills. For vision. And as a side effect, firing off a cero is a piece of cake."

"Oh." Renji stayed quiet for a minute, then spoke again. "Hey, Ichigo?"

"What?"

"Why did you give up your life to be a captain? You had a whole life in the world of the living. Right now, you could have had a wife, kids, a job…"

"You ask a lot of questions today, Renji." For a moment, Renji thought he had gone too far, but then Ichigo continued. "I was needed here. Things were falling apart, seireitei needed captains. Besides, it's not like I don't visit my friends back there. As for the wife part… I lost all interest in that for a long time after Orihime died."

Yes. She had died. He had fought and defeated Ulquiorra, cast him down and killed him, but not before he had sunk his blade into Orihime's heart.

The two of them stayed silent for a while, remembering times past, dead comrades, until Renji realized they would have to get going if they were to make it in time to the meeting.

Rangiku was all too pleased to notice that not only was she on time, she had over two minutes to spare. She felt positively filled with glee when she noticed that both Renji and Ichigo were running late. When people always criticized you (though subtly) for being late, it was hard not to indulge in a little schadenfreude when it happened to someone else.

What really bothered her about the trouble she got for her infamous habit of being late was not the criticizing stare of her peers as much as the reputation she had about her since her days as a vice-captain; easygoing Rangiku, lazy Rangiku, drunkard Rangiku…

Well, it was _captain_ Rangiku to them all, now. She had earned her position a decade or so after Hitsugaya's 'demise'. And now, she had to deal with people who couldn't see that running a division _without_ a vice-captain, visiting your friend and captain in the hospital and training yourself whenever you had time to spare often led to an extremely busy day- it was a wonder she made as good time as se usually did.

Finally, captains nine and five arrived, with one second to spare. The both of them looked a little worse for wear, with small wounds here and there, and slightly torn clothes. In contrast to their appearance, the two looked rather happy. Inwardly, she sighed. The two of them had probably been sparring again, with real swords, and had taken it too far. It was strange how funny men thought it was to harm each other, she thought.

"You are just in time." The sotaicho spoke. "I was afraid we would have to wait for you. Looking at you now, I wonder if we won't have to after all. Do you need medical attention before we begin?"

"Sir, no sir!" the both of them said in unison.

Rangiku resisted the urge to snicker. The two of them would have to sit through a long, dull meeting with those wounds. Served them right for losing track of time.

"Very well, then. Let us begin the meeting. Are all divisions present?"

"Third and seventh are unrepresented, Yamamoto-sama." Soifon said. "Their vice-captains are far too busy working to attend."

"And Ukitake-taicho is sick again." Unohana added.

"I see. Soifon-taicho, see to it that all divisions without representation are briefed as soon s this meeting is concluded."

"Now" he continued, not pausing to wait for an answer, "to the matter which I summoned you all for. As you may or may not know," He cast a glance in Ichigo's direction "the central forty-six has been completely filled again. Up until now, my influence has been greatly increased, as something akin to martial law- my law- has been the highest executive power.

I am naught but pleased to once more accept the decisions of the eldest and wisest of souls."

He made a slight pause, letting them process information. Shunsui, Unohana and Soifon were unfazed, the rest looked rather puzzled. Most of all Ichigo, whose grasp of politics was poor, to say the least.

"Their first decision, which I support whole-heartedly, is one to ensure the Aizen incident is _never_ repeated."

Oh, so it was an incident now? Ichigo mused. That would be the understatement of the century.

"The decision of the central forty-six goes as follows" the sotaicho continued "a new force will be founded, its members drawn from neutral, unbiased sources. Their purpose will be to maintain a never-ending watch on all seated officers, particularly those of 5th seat and upwards. All captains and vice-captains will be watched over at all times, to make sure that law is enforced at any and all times. The members of this new corps will not be subject to any authority save that of the central forty-six. For the purpose of co-operation with captains, official officers will be instated. Otherwise, the identity of the officers will remain a secret.

This new corps shall carry the name Surveillance and Law Enforcement Corps. Furthermore, all captains and vice-captains will be required to wear medallions such as these" he gestured to a set of medallions lying on a table next to him. "at all times. They contain a reiatsu reader and tracker. Removing a medallion without a clear permit from an officer of the SLE corps is equivalent to treason."

When he once more became silent, there was more than one murmur of protest.

"What'll happen if we refuse?" Kenpachi asked.

"The Secret Mobile Corps will hunt you down and execute you on the same grounds as that of a traitor." Yamamoto replied.

"This is outrageous." Kuchiki Byakuya, this time. "This shows complete distrust in us from their side. In the name of the Kuchiki, and the sixth division, I protest."

"Duly noted." Yamamoto replied.

"Yamamoto-sama." Soifon spoke this time, surprising them all. When it came to dog-like loyalty, not even the late Komamura had her beat. (A/N: No pun intended.)

"I feel this is an intrusion on my duties. Finding, reporting and killing possible traitors and deviants has ever been the job of the SMC."

"No one is stopping you from doing your job, commander." The sotaicho replied, stern as ever. "The new force will simply be given a greater amount of resources, specialized towards eradicating treacherous behaviour."

"Don't you think this is a little much, Yama-jii?" Shunsui said. "I get the idea, but each of us is being treated like a possible traitor. Do we really need to be so suspicious?"

"I shall have no further protesting!" Yamamoto said firmly. "This is the decision of the central forty-six, and it is final. Before the sun sets, you must all wear those medallions. Dismissed."

It was with a general feeling of unease that the captains left the meeting. The idea of their every move monitored and observed appealed to no-one.

"This is bullshit." Ichigo said, as he and Renji walked towards their respective divisions.

"Meh. People watch us wherever we go already. How's this so different? Besides, it's for a good purpose, right?" Renji replied.

"I'm not that comfortable with my privacy invaded." Ichigo argued. "They said _at all times_, and when old Yama says something, he usually means it."

"Hey, so long as those new force members doesn't interfere with my work, it's fine, I guess. I got nothin' to hide."

"Untrue." Ichigo said. "Everyone's got something to hide, small or large. That's the beauty of privacy. Besides, I don't like the feel of these medallions. I have a good mind to take a trip to the real world and have Kisuke take a look at it."

"Well, whatever." Renji said, seeming much less disturbed by the whole thing than Ichigo. "See ya. I'ma go beat the shit out of some more recruits now, that never gets old."

Ichigo smiled at that. Ninth or not, Renji still was an eleventh at heart.

Kurotsuchi Mayuri was quite busy. The design for the medallions he and Nemu had to wear was familiar, yet utterly alien. If anyone thought he would not dissect and analyze them, they were sorely mistaken.

"Odd." He murmured to himself. "No, very odd. Nemu, get over here!"

Suddenly, a dozen figures wearing gray robes appeared around him.

One of them, apparently their leader, pointed their finger at him, and said:

"Treason."

Aaaand end chapter. If anybody reads this, _please review_.


	2. Moving on

Chapter two is up now, since I finally got sick of Diablo II and decided to finish this chapter instead, yeah. Enjoy!

No one really minded the first arrest. As a matter of fact, it had people saying things like: 'They can't be that bad, the gray-robes.' (Gray-robe being the nickname for officers of the SLE Corps, because of the gray, hooded kimono they wore.)

A mere two weeks after the official forming of the corps, Kurotsuchi Mayuri was arrested to be tried for no less than seven hundred different offences, small and large. The sheer numbers of accusations, and the very real evidence to back it up, astounded even those among the captains who knew exactly how rotten Mayuri was. He had been warned the very same night he had gotten his medallion, since he had taken it off and tinkered with it.

The officers of the SLEC had been chased out of his lab by Mayuri himself, who in his fury had drawn his blade on them. Though no-one was harmed, this had put him under close scrutiny; and soon, a formal arrest was made. This time by Soifon-taicho herself, to prevent any unnecessary casualties. To everybody's surprise, Mayuri had calmly accepted the arrest and had allowed them to take him into custody. He seemed completely unafraid of judgement.

The charges were so many and so appalling, Ichigo considered not reading them at all, but they were part of his captain's briefing. They included almost two hundred charges of assault- nearly all of which were directed at his vice-captain- murder, unnatural experimenting, the genocide of the quincies (after the seireitei-quincy wars)and other crimes against humanity… some of the atrocities didn't even have a proper legal name.

The trial itself took less time than people expected. In the course of two weeks, the mad scientist had been found guilty of everything he was accused of, and the sentence was simple: Death. The central 46 ruled that it be Yamamoto himself who beheaded him. It was not to be.

On the day of the execution, as Mayuri walked towards his doom, he broke free.

In moments, the guards around him lay dead, victims to some toxic gas. Several captains were eager to hunt him down themselves, but the order was given to Soifon, the seireitei's head assassin.

Ichigo was the only one keeping up, his bankai making him one of the fastest things in existence. Mayuri twisted and turned, ran and feinted, covering an extraordinary distance before she caught up- but in the end, no-one can outrun Soifon.

The battle was brief, and mercifully painless. Mayuri, for all his tricks, were the least schooled in the martial arts of all the captains, while Soifon's prowess in hand to hand combat was second only to one.

Three strikes, three _homonka_. Some kido back and forth, some sword fighting, and five minutes later, the second mark was placed on Kurotsuchi's skin. He died instantly.

The whole affair had been messy, but at least the resident madman of the gotei 13 was out of the way. Still, relieved though he was, Ichigo couldn't help but feel uneasy. It was as if there was more to the whole thing than just crime and justice. He brought it up to Renji a few days later, when the two of them had managed a whole in their oh-so-busy captain's schedules, or rather, had found a way to escape their dutiful fukutaicho.

"This whole affair _stinks_." Ichigo said. "Something's not right, I tell you."

"What do you care about twelfth?" Renji asked. "Everyone's practically ready to throw a party celebrating his death. Hell, I think some of the guys in twelfth actually are!"

"It isn't twelfth in particular. I hated that bastard's guts as much as anybody, but he has always been safe before. And much as I hate to admit it, he was a competent and genial captain. And god knows we need our captains."

"Relax, Ichigo. He was weak, anyways. Perhaps this means the grays aren't so bad, not letting bad things happen right under their noses just because the bad guys have protection from above."

"What I'm saying is, twelfth is leaderless. Did you know what happened to poor Nemu when she heard he was dead?"

"No, what?"

"She went comatose. I stopped by at fourth earlier today. Apparently she just regained consciousness. She won't be doing any work anytime soon, though. She's just one straw away from being completely insane."

"Twelfth will have it hard for a while then, I guess." Renji shrugged.

"You could say that again. Right now, their third, fourth and fifth seats are working themselves into an early grave just keeping things together. And I sincerely doubt there will be a new captain anytime soon, seeing as how the leader of twelfth must be clever enough to lead the research bureau. We are dead short of geniuses with bankai."

"What about Urahara? He was captain once, wasn't he? And everyone knows he's innocent."

"Yeeah…" Ichigo said, dryly. "I doubt he would just go back even if he could return to the soul society. The banishment was for all time, and not only would the central 46 lose face if they took him back, the spell put on him makes it impossible. He can't return. And besides, I don't even know if he would want to."

After that, their conversation steered towards lighter subjects, like who would win if a pirate and a ninja fought, and other ridiculous speculation. But still, Ichigo couldn't shake that paranoid feeling that something wasn't quite right.

Unohana Retsu sighed. Her patient was being difficult, in more than one way. She was used to treating horrible injuries, anything from torsos split open to severed limbs. All of those things would bend to the will of Minazuki- she had once returned a soldier to normal that had been little more than bits spread all over the vicinity. But mental damage… it was not quite as her area of expertise. She knew how to treat a patient who had suffered psychological trauma of course, but Nemu was something of a special case.

Yes, doubtless she was unique in how much abuse she had taken. The girl was such a mess; she didn't know where to begin. Fortunately, Isane was a great therapist, better suited for this than Unohana herself. Now, if only she would get here…

Isane stumbled through the door. She knew she was late, but it couldn't be helped. There were always wounded people to take care of. Fortunately, it was mostly eleventh division members who got overeager in their sparring, but it was still demanding work.

"I am so sorry I am late, captain."

"It's all right, Isane. She was a little difficult before you got here, I had to restrain her. She went into a fit of hysterics."

"I see. I'll talk to her, then."

As Unohana left the room, Isane walked towards the sad figure of Kurotsuchi Nemu. She was wearing a straightjacket. Apparently, Unohana hadn't been joking about the 'difficult' part. Right now, she lay perfectly still on the bed, an apathetic look on her face.

"Nemu." Isane said quietly.

"Nemu, can you hear me?"

"Ma… yuri… sama…" Nemu said. It was all she had said for a long time now, according to the medical journal.

"I want to talk to you, Nemu." Isane said in her kindest voice. "And we don't have to talk about him."

Nemu was quiet for a while, but then continued:

"I'm… nothing. I am useless. I am nothing without Mayuri-sama."

"Now, that's not true, Nemu." Isane assured her, but was interrupted.

"I'm not worth the trouble."

Isane sighed. This was going to be very difficult.

Two hours later, she walked out of the room. Unohana stood outside, waiting.

"How is she?" she asked.

"Terrible. But she is calm, at least. Unless we treat her very carefully, I'm afraid she will go into apathy completely."

"Do you think it is possible for her to recover at all?"

"That is a good question." Isane said, looking thoughtful. "It depends on two things, really. First off, how she was designed. She is the result of top-notch mod soul and gigai technology. If Kurotsuchi created her soul just as a normal soul, and she just happened to be useful enough to be his vice-captain slash punching bag, then I think there is hope. Because then, her misplaced devotion to him was a result of her 'upbringing' rather than design. But if she was designed to be his loyal servant, then she will never be able to return to normal."

"Secondly" she continued, "if she was designed as a normal soul, then it is up to her if she wants to stand on her own feet in life."

"I will consult twelfth, then, to see what notes Mayuri left on his creation. He always was very careful to write any and all knowledge down, at least."

Somewhere else, at another time, Ichigo sat in a moonlit garden. He always did, at this day of every year. It was the day Orihime had died, at the cuarta espada's blade. Everything was a perfect calm, and when he was in this place, fully relaxed, he could appreciate the beauty of his surroundings despite his blindness. As he leaned his back towards the trunk of the tree he sat under, he slowly drifted into sleep, dreaming dreams most familiar… no, not dreams so much as memories, that he was certain. Memories of that fateful day, when Aizen had stormed the king's palace, and Ichigo had followed like the brash, overconfident youth he was.

A dream. He was walking through the corridors of the palace. The walls and roof were adorned with exquisite ornaments, but he could not remember them, so they were all a blur. What _was_ clear was the bodies of the mighty fallen of the royal guard- once-captain soldiers whose prowess were second to none, chosen to guard the most important being in all of soul society. All dead now, fallen to the blades of Aizen's lieutenants; and the vizards. How he hated them now, in these moments, those cursed masked soldiers. He had never guessed that they might turn on soul society as they did. He did not know then, as a boy of sixteen, how wronged they had been.

Time and space blurred in his dreams, and anything between seconds and long hours went missing. He supposed that he and Byakuya, who had followed into the palace with a few other captains, had been searching the corridors until they found the intruders. And found them, they did. Once again, his memory warped time, and somehow Byakuya was gone. Downed? Dead? He could not remember properly, not until he waked.

He stood face to face now with the group he had been searching for: Aizen. His lieutenants, Gin and Tosen. The four vizards Shinji, Love, Rose, and Kensei. Tosen was saying something, his memory couldn't decipher just what- likely, he was volunteering to deal with Ichigo.

Then began the clearest part of his memories. Aizen himself stepped forward, and spoke to him.

"How persistent you are," he said. "Perhaps it is time I dealt with you personally? You have grown strong; and it has been a while since I fought anyone seriously."

They fought. From the start, he had gone all out. Mask on, every move he knew. He had even been as cunning as to pretend that he had let the traitor captain's taunts get to him. He saw through the illusion; when it came to swordplay, Aizen was a simpler man than he would have thought. It took a few nasty gashes, but he learned to stop the effects of Kyoka Suigetsu tolerably. First, Aizen had commended him on his growth since last they met. Then, he had said: Ban kai.

Once again, things got blurry. Only a minute could have been lost, but when things were clear to his memory again, he saw himself blown away. The awesome might of Aizen's bankai had been to much- he had barely been able to block it. He expected himself to fall and die any second, even if he knew that wouldn't happen. This was him dreaming; he was still alive after all these years.

And lo and behold, if not a full five minutes went without him dying. He kept the fight strong, even if his opponent dominated the match. Turning more and more hollow-like, Ichigo had managed to keep his reiatsu constantly rising. But eventually, he was cut just one time too many. Aizen had suffered only one blow, and his bankai allowed him to pretty much become invisible, trick his senses, and even control parts of his body. It seemed hopeless.

It was then that the hollow showed up. His memory, his dream, turned now to the realm of his zanpakuto, where the hollow stood, laughing.

"Not going well, King?"

Despite the immediate mortal peril, he seemed quite amused with the fight. It was as if he knew something he didn't, and he looked as smug as he sounded.

"You called me here." Ichigo replied. "So why don't you tell me what you want?"

"You were getting yourself killed out there." The hollow said, grinning. "Give me control, and I'll turn this around."

"No." came his reply, firm and simple.

The hollow went quiet for a while, seemingly thinking. Then, he rose to his feet, and walked towards him.

"What were you thinking when you rushed after Aizen, Ichigo? That you had a chance of defeating _him_?"

"I- I wasn't thinking. Maybe that I could stall for time, give room for reinforcements…?" Ichigo replied, weakly.

"Liar!" the hollow shouted. "Ever since the day I started existing, even since before that, you have always wanted to fight- fight to protect, fight for personal glory, whatever the reason. You came here, even though you _knew_ it was impossible, with _hope_ that you could stand up to him. Admit it!"

Ichigo was silent. The hollow was more or less right. He had had a few very vague thoughts when he followed Aizen, but deep down, he had hoped to best Aizen. He had triumphed against impossible odds before- why not now?

"You are a fool." The hollow sneered. Then, he gave a huge grin. "But then again, so is _he_."

"What do you mean?" He was puzzled, now.

"I know a secret…" the hollow said in a mischievous voice.

"Just tell me then!" Ichigo snapped.

The hollow let out a cackling laughter.

"Do you know why you haven't gotten killed yet? Have you thought about why somebody with twice the reiatsu of a captain, full mastery of all the shinigami arts and a zanpakuto whose power is uniquely devastating in its nature did not outright kill you with the first blow?"

Ichigo was about to say something, but the hollow cut him off.

"He's holding back! You emit more hollow reiatsu than shinigami, and it unsettles him!"

"What-"

"Why does it unsettle him? Because the fool has awakened a hollow of his own. I can _feel_ it! He wants the power you have, but unlike you, he cannot control it. He keeps his locked up in his mind, but it strains and tears, yearning to be free. And the more you push him, the stronger it gets!"

"So that's what he meant…" Ichigo mumbled, thinking of the day he had seen Aizen on the Sokyoko hill, extracting the hogyoko from Rukia.

"To cross the boundaries of shinigami and hollow…"

"Yes!" the hollow cried, gleefully. "It wasn't just for the creation of an army of arrancar. He wanted a hollow's mask, and a hollow's power!"

"But he can't control his… do I stand a chance of winning, then?"

"Not bloody likely." The hollow scoffed. "If you want to be free of the things his bankai does, there's something you need to do, and you're not gonna like it."

"What is it?"

Again, thing became a blur, and his memories became obscure. After some time, he once again saw himself, now at the scene of the battle once more. Aizen stood some ten feet away, sword ready. Ichigo was down on one knee, bleeding from every place imaginable. His mask was breaking. He saw himself take out his free hand. It had become clawed and white, with a few black stripes running down the length of the arm. A hollow's arm.

And then, he did it. With thumb an index finger, he thrust into his eye pits, ripping out first one eye, then the other. Casually- as if he was in no pain, not bleeding- he took a stripe of cloth from his ripped shihakusho and tied it around his head, covering his nonexistent eyes.

Then, he exploded with power. The mask grew fully back, with a set of horns. There was nothing about him that looked even remotely shinigami any longer- the only proof of that was the black form of Tensa Zangetsu in his hands. He was fully hollow, with both the powers of a Vasto Lorde and a shinigami.

The next few minutes were less than clear; throughout the blur of this dream of memories he saw fighting back and forth, blood being shed. This time, Aizen bled for good measure as well, though the fight still went in his favour. Ichigo fought with all the savagery and berserk of a cornered animal who knows that, either it dies here and now, or live at the expense of its limbs. Finally, after what (probably) was an hour, the hollowified form of Ichigo dropped to the floor, all but dead. Aizen was breathing heavily, and had taken a few nasty blows, but he stood victorious.

Superior as ever, Aizen settled for saying a few words before beheading his opponent.

"You are interesting, Kurosaki. I wish I could keep you alive. Perhaps you could have been a useful specimen in my research of hollowification. But you are much too bothersome- _aah_"

Aizen's little speech was cut short. The vizards had attacked him from behind, holding him steady while running their swords through him. It was funny, Ichigo thought, how the look of a katana pincushion seemed to suit the villain.

Again, it was a blur. He saw himself being healed by the Vizards. Aizen's corpse burning. Tosen dying. Gin disappeared. He remembered vaguely how Shinji explained that they had sided with Aizen hoping to kill him. Now, Shinji continued, they could continue to live on wherever they wanted to, never having to deal with the seireitei again. He also remembered Shinji asking him for something unusual: Ichigo would take credit for killing Aizen. For all the soul society would know, the vizards would be gone forever.

He remembered agreeing, though reluctantly. And then-

Ichigo suddenly woke.

Somebody else had entered the garden. Knowing that it had to be somebody he knew for that person to get close without him noticing, he relaxed himself. It was Rukia.

"You are always here at this night ever year, aren't you?" she said.

Ichigo, still a little drowsy from his sleep, didn't answer.

"Every year, you sit under this tree and sulk, drowning yourself in sadness and self-loathing because you couldn't save her."

A little surprised at Rukia's brutally honest words, he began to talk back.

"Well, aren't _you_ being honest today?" He said angrily. "Do you think it's pitiful, or what? Do you pity me?"

Rukia just smiled, and before he knew what was happening, she had punched him in the face.

"Ouch! What the _hell_ was that, you annoying little midget?" he snapped, about ready to throw a tantrum.

"You idiot." She said calmly, completely disarming him. "I was just telling the truth. You sit and brood, never letting go, never letting anyone close. She was my friend too, you know."

"I…" Ichigo began, taken aback, "I…"

"And you've become a captain. That burden of responsibility always suited you. But you could never accept that you can't protect everyone, all the time, could you?"

Ichigo remained silent.

"Could you?" she repeated, while taking a seat oppose to him.

He was quiet for a while, and then his blind face broke into a grin. This time, it was Rukia's turn to be surprised.

"What's so funny?!" She demanded, sounding a bit offended.

"I… I'm just glad I have you." He said.

"What?" Rukia flushed.

"Someone who has the guts to punch me, to snap me out of it." Ichigo got up. You were right, Rukia. I really was sulking. Thank you."

"Ah- you're welcome."

Suddenly, this gloomy night of death was not so gloomy to Ichigo.

_________¨

A/N: End chapter two! Please review if you read this- I accept critique, so don't be shy if you think this is bad. Just tell me. Chapter three will be up sometime, I just don't know when.


	3. Investigation

It was a testament to the growing uneasiness and unrest that stirred in the ranks of the gotei 13 that it was so hard for Ichigo to sneak away for a visit to Urahara in the real world. Usually, he could run off and do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted- his methods and execution of them as a captain were unorthodox, to say the least. As was his attitude to the burdened position of captainship. Yet somehow his division always ran smoothly, and morale was high. Doubtlessly, he thought, this had to be credited in large part to Momo. Her dedication and diligence was extraordinary- it was hard to believe she had been a mental wreck only a decade ago.

So here was, sneaking- actually _sneaking_, of all things- off to the world of the living, to see Urahara about the medallions that he, and all other captains and vice-captains had to wear. Lately, he felt like he couldn't go anywhere without being watched by an alien presence. It was much a repeat of his first decade of service- Soifon's _onmitsukido_ had been ordered to monitor him day and night those years, since the central 46 had been very conservative about employing a man with hollow powers. It had been unnerving at first, and outright frustrating later on. Now, he, and- of this he was certain- every captain was being watched. His sensory skills had long since surpassed that of Kuchiki Byakuya, and with some effort, he could single out the watchers. Definitely Gray-robes, all. There was a distinct pattern layered on the reiatsu of their sort, as if their uniform was part of their very being.

Of course, he _was_ the third fastest thing in existence, and he wasn't exactly without resourcefulness- so a quick dash into an alley, a teleport kido woven, which transported him far, far away to a beacon he'd secretly set- and he was all set, rushing through the tunnel between the worlds. No hell butterfly to guide him, only his senses. That in itself was a risk, but before long, he was standing in the sky above Karakura. Wasting no time, he rushed to the Urahara shoten. Since the gray-robe reign had started, any contact with exiles, living persons- anything that could be seen as fraternizing with the enemy- was _strictly_ forbidden, punishable by retirement. All the more reason to make this quick. He regretted that he hadn't warned Kisuke he was coming, but there was no helping it. Send a hell butterfly, they might catch his message.

A quick explanation later, the two of them were in Urahara's basement, Urahara himself weaving some powerful kido which would obstruct any attempts to monitor them.

"So" Urahara started "you're telling me a new disciplinary unit has been introduced, and you have the feeling they are not quite as good as they make themselves out to be?"

"That's exactly it." Ichigo said, taking a seat on a nearby rock. "Mayuri has been killed as a result of their probing, and 12th is completely leaderless now."

Urahara frowned. "Doesn't this intrude on the duties of Soifon-san's _onmitsukido_? I know it quite well, and they always hunted traitors with relish."

"It _does._ It's as if someone- let's say it's the central 46- wanted everyone, even the punishment squads of 2nd company, to have a tenth-share of the freedom they had. Anyone of importance is being followed wherever they go, and apparently it's a criminal offense to shake 'em off your tail. I'm in trouble just for being here. I'll be telling them I went off to see my family in the living world, or something; they won't be able to prove anything. Just so you know, seeing you or Yoruichi-san is punishable by retirement for life."

"Oh, my." Urahara said, sounding surprised. "Maggot's nest for all your life, just for meeting up with an exile like myself? How harsh." He stopped to think for a short while.

"Weren't I cleared of all charges, and Aizen recognized as the culprit?" he said, frowning even more.

"Supposedly. And yet, these gray-robes consider you 'of questionable and unsavoury character'. Not so different a description of their own people, really."

Urahara took of his hat, scratched his head, walking around in what seemed like febrile thinking. Finally, he took a seat on the ground.

"You know…" he began, "before I founded the research institute, before I was captain of the twelfth division, I was schooled as a professional assassin with the Shihoin and the _onmitsukido_- two things which were inseparable back then- alongside Yoruichi-san. I worked there for seven decades. I know its history well, though it was a long time ago." He paused, as if trying to remember. "Before Yamamoto founded the first academy and laid grounds for seireitei as we know it today, the Shihoin had a proto version of the onmitsukido. They rose to prominence by having the best intelligence, the best agents, and the best murderers at their disposal. At first, only pure-blooded Shihoin were allowed such training- officially, at least. But Shihoin clan heads were usually pragmatists, and before long, several lesser clans had bonded themselves to the Shihoin- like the Fong. And even in those days, an older version of the central forty-six existed, as a council of the wisest and eldest men and women of the soul society, appointed by emissaries of the soul king himself.

And despite the impopularity of the 'dishonourable' ways of the Shihoin, their usefulness was recognized from the beginning. Since the ancient days when clan head Shihoin Yukie Midoriko laid down the principal ideals for the _onmitsukido,_ there has barely been any deviation to speak of- it has been, since its founding, a perfect intelligence and murder bureau. And they always had the trust of those high in standing, including the central forty-six."

"So, what're you saying?"

"I can think of no scandal or disgrace huge enough to cause the central forty-six- assuming they are all not senile- to cast aside the second division so. Even though they were slaughtered by Aizen, their replacement are likely of the same kind- stocky, conservative old en and women who judge with extreme prejudice, and insist on standing completely neutral in political matters. They are definitely _not_ the kind to try and fix what isn't broken."

"So, what does this mean?"

"One of three things. Either, they are genuinely afraid that the Aizen incident could be repeated, and think a complete control of everyone powerful is the solution. I find this unlikely."

"Or?"

"They have taken to scheming, themselves, and wish to utilize the Gotei Juusantai towards some end of their own."

"Or," he continued, "They are being manipulated by one or several individuals with an agenda of their own. This _should_ be impossible. I need you to tell me more of what they are doing."

"All right. Aside from us being monitored everywhere, all the time, people are being questioned for practically nothing. Kira, Hinamori and Renji were all brought in for questioning, and the given reason was that they had been associates of Aizen's in the past. Of all _the ludicrous things-_" Ichigo's voice trembled with anger, until Kisuke interrupted him.

"Keep your calm, Kurosaki-san. What else is there?"

"I'd need to write a long list- I didn't think of doing that when I went here, and it's dangerous enough to run-"

"Then it's better that you didn't." Kisuke said, reassuringly. "Just try to remember anything."

"Well… there are these_,_" he said, fiddling with the medallion around his neck. "All the captains and vice-captains are required to wear them at all times. They're supposed to measure our reiatsu at all times, or something."

"Let me see it. I could probably learn a lot."

"I don't think I can. Mayuri took off his the first night after he got it, and minutes later, the gray-robes came for him."

"Ah, but this isn't seireitei." Urahara assured him. "No signals of any kind could give a sign of warning through my barriers, and if I can just tinker with it a little, I think I could erase any trace that it was ever removed."

Unsure, Ichigo removed his medallion. Urahara took it, and disappeared up the ladder to whatever place he could use as a laboratory- Ichigo wouldn't know. Deciding he wouldn't be back very soon, Ichigo sat back, just waiting. He couldn't afford to be away longer than three hours more at the most.

He didn't know how, but somehow he had fallen asleep. He woke by Urahara's cane poking him. Panicking, he tried to assess the time- had he been away too long?

"Relax, Kurosaki-san." Urahara said. "There's no need to panic; you've only been asleep just below two hours. And I have in just above an hour assessed a few crucial facts about this strange medallion."

Settling down, Ichigo calmed himself, and asked:

"What is it, then?"

"It's fairly alarming." Kisuke replied cryptically. "Care to guess what its effective ingredient is?"

"Urahara-san, I'm not in the mood for games. Just tell me already!" Ichigo snapped.

"Sekki-sekki." Ichigo froze. Soul ore? "Its active core is made of sekki-sekki. It's an ingenious piece of machinery- even on my level of gadgetry, I have to say."

"What is it for?" Ichigo asked, anxious to know.

"I couldn't tell you with any certainty, having only studied it for two hours- but I have a likely hypothesis. I believe it was invented not to monitor, but manipulate and control reiatsu. Its main mechanism is designed to drain its wearer of reiatsu at a slow pace- over weeks, months even. I am guessing that perhaps half a year would be required for it to take full effect."

"And then?"

"Anyone taking it off would be severely weakened for anything between a few days and a couple of weeks. Imagine a human having to carry a ten kilogramme stone for months, which was slowly growing to become a twenty kilogramme stone, and you'll have a basic grasp of the idea."

Ichigo sat still, shocked. "Could the central forty-six really have authorized such a drastic means of control, without even informing us?"

"It certainly is drastic." Urahara agreed. "I can't imagine any of those old men thinking up such an idea himself."

Ichigo got up to his feet.

"We're still in the dark about all this, Urahara-san." He said, solemnly. "We know basically nothing. But it is better to be careful than caught unawares, so I am going to assume somebody is manipulating those in power."

"Well," Urahara replied, "then you should ask yourself this: _if_ there is indeed a conspiracy of sorts, then who is likely to be targeted?"

He stood silent for a while. Then, he hung the medallion around his neck and headed towards the ladder.

"Thanks, Urahara-san. This puts you at risk as well; I appreciate your help."

"Don't worry." Kisuke said, with a smile. "Not one of their assassins is good enough to catch me, and those who are strong enough to kill me could never catch me."

"One last question, before I leave."

"Yes?"

"Is there anything to be done to prevent being weakened by this, if it is actually meant to drain us?"

"Who in the seireitei have the most reiatsu- plain, raw power?" Kisuke asked back.

"I guess…" Ichigo said, thinking. "The old man, then Kenpachi, then me."

"Then you three are the likeliest not to suffer badly. You see, these little darlings are just prototypes- not tested on powerhouses like captains and vice-captains. There's no telling how it will react to living, powerful reiatsu. For you, I recommend actively feeding it hollow reiatsu. It's meant to contain shinigami power; if tainted with darker energy, it could be rendered dysfunctional."

Ichigo leapt up the ladder, hurrying away. Soon, he had opened the senkaimon and was on his way through the world between worlds. While running, he was thinking. Who could be targeted, if there was one mind behind these radical changes? No, rather; who _wouldn't_ be targeted? If anyone was safe, it would be Yamamoto-jiisan. Or not- perhaps he was the target. Unohana-san. Beyond all doubt, no-one would dare to try and incriminate her. Not only was she from a high-standing family, but she was well loved all over not only seireitei, but all of soul society. Her division patrolled everywhere, healing as they went. She could literally get away with murder, raised above suspicion as she was.

Ukitake Juushiro and Kyoraku Shunsui. Both heads of prominent clans, both competent and two of the eldest shinigami in existence. Any attempt on them would cause a massive political maelstrom; the nobles would possibly revolt. They liked the stability they had.

Kuchiki Byakuya. No doubt he was safe: his clan was the foremost of them all, and he had a flawless service record. He was admired for both his devotion to law, and his martial skills. Removing him would be an eyesore to anyone wanting to take power- at least in an insidious, less martial manner than war.

Soifon? Possibly, her way of being loyal to a fault could either mean her death or guaranteed survival. Right now, she obeyed the directives of the gray-robes without complaint.

That left himself (definitely so, considering the fuss there had been- and still were- about his hollow abilities), Rangiku, Kenpachi and Renji. They were all fairly junior, and politically much more vulnerable in such a situation. Well, Kenpachi was hardly junior, but his complete lack of care for rule and discipline like the other squads had was definitely not a plus.

He tried to shake off all these dark thoughts. He knew nothing; except that the central forty-six was exercising a radical amount of control. Something was up, but that didn't necessarily mean that there was conspiracy afoot.

Soon, he set foot on the soil of the soul society. No sooner had he entered the gates of the seireitei than a group of gray-robes greeted him.

"Kurosaki Ichigo, gobantai taicho, you are wanted for questioning regarding your unexplained absence today. You are to report to the arbiter's tribunal immediately."

Just_ great_.

_____

She was alone again. She had had friends at some point in time, she was sure of it. There was so much she could no longer remember; so much lost in the vast space of time. She knew she was an arrancar; once an espada. She had been robbed of her power, but it had returned along the way. A leering, one-eyed face came to mind when she thought about that. She remembered a handsome shinigami with well-groomed brown hair who commanded them all as if he were a god. And as usual, when she thought of shinigami, _his_ face came to mind. A kind, gentle face. Red hair, and a massive black zanpakuto. If only his name could come back to her!

As she sat there, her green hair flowing in the wind, her memories were interrupted by a rough voice.

"Yo."


End file.
